


Trust is a Two-Way Street

by ziparumpazoo



Category: Fringe
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M, Kink Meme, under duress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-27
Updated: 2011-06-27
Packaged: 2017-10-20 19:10:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/216166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ziparumpazoo/pseuds/ziparumpazoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sting goes bad.</p><p>(please see notes for prompt and warnings)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trust is a Two-Way Street

**Author's Note:**

> [Fringe Kinkmeme](http://fringe-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/) fill: _Olivia/Peter, Aliens (or your choice of fringey bad guy/science) Made Them Do It. Set in season 1 or season 2. Maybe they're undercover on a case and they have to pretend a little more to convince their suspects?_
> 
> Nothing graphic, but the dubcon/noncon label is there given the nature of the prompt.

“Do you trust me?” Peter breathes against her neck. She can smell his sweat and feel his gut tighten as Carlino jams the gun into his kidney again.

“Come on _saputo_ , you say she’s just your girl, I want to see you do ‘er.” He leans in, grinds his pelvis against Peter’s, presses them both tighter against the wall. Peter braces his elbows against the cinderblock on either side of Olivia’s head, but Carlino has his knee between Peter’s thighs, giving him the advantage and leaving nothing for leverage.

As if the .45 wasn’t incentive enough. At this range the bullet would gut them both, and Carlino knows it. He’d also figured they weren’t the biological weapons buyers he was supposed to be meeting about five minutes into the deal and it’s only Peter’s silver tongue that’s kept them alive this long.

“Let’s go, Pietro. Prove it.” Carlino jabs him again.

Peter drops his forehead onto her collarbone and pitches his voice so low she can barely hear him. “Do you trust me?” His fist bunches the fabric of her dress – the ever impractical, no-place-to-hide-a-bug-or-a-weapon-dress, selected to fit the part. She’s not sure exactly what he has in mind, but they lost radio contact with Charlie once they'd entered the building and their options are getting slimmer by the minute.

Peter runs his fingers down her thigh, slips them up under the hem, trails them along the bare skin of her hip. He sweeps his finger in a circle, pauses, straight line with a hook at the end, pauses, then looks up and meets her eyes, willing her to understand what he’s planning. She gasps as he finishes the letter ‘a’ with a flourish, playing her part.

Carlino grunts his approval. Olivia can feel his excitement, sees the way his pupils dilate as Peter brings his other hand down and hikes her skirt up to her waist. She hears his breathing quicken s he grinds into Peter again, pushing him into her. She feels Peter’s mouth on her skin, his lips making shapes of their own, begging her forgiveness.

This is not the time to fumble the play. Olivia drags his face up to hers. Peter freezes, stutters for just a second, so she arches against him, hoping it’s enough of a distraction as she mouths the words _’I trust you’_ against his lips. He jerks as she reaches down between them and goes for his fly, but that’s the permission Peter’s been waiting for.

He grabs a handful of her hair, palms her breast roughly and she moans into his neck. She never takes her eyes off Carlino.

“’Atta boy, show ‘er who’s boss.” Carlino encourages him. Olivia can smell his sour sweat as he leans against Peter’s shoulder and goes for the reach around. As he slips his hand between their bodies, the gun in the other hand dips low. It’s all the opening she needs.

She signals Peter with a quick pinch and he drops his shoulder just as she slams her knuckles into Carlino’s throat. She feels the cartilage pop and his eye fly open in surprise.

Not the climax he was expecting.

Peter spins, grabs the gun, and before she can stop him, squeezes the trigger. Carlino drops like the sack of shit that he is.

Olivia’s ears ring in the silence that follows. She smoothes her dress back down and takes a step towards Peter, but he just pushes past her, through the mess of agents alerted by the gunfire, now crowding outside.

She finds him later, sitting in the passenger seat of her SUV, head propped against the window, eyes closed. Olivia slides into the driver’s seat and closes the door gently. Peter opens one eye, closes it again, and they just sit. Breathing.

Decompressing.

But it’s late and she’s tired. He’d waited for her, which she takes as a good sign. Still, he hasn’t said a word since leaving the room.

Olivia reaches out a hand, and when he doesn’t flinch, she drags her finger over the smooth skin on the back of his hand in the shape of a ‘p’. She spells out his name slowly, one letter at a time, and when she’s done, he turns his hand over, palm up. She laces her fingers between his.

“I’ve always trusted you Peter.”

He gives her hand a squeeze.


End file.
